


Look both ways

by RaeNonnyNonny



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Pretty fluffy really, Strike's POV, a touch of pining, grumpy Strike, kind of a case fic but I'm not very good at them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:54:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27524164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeNonnyNonny/pseuds/RaeNonnyNonny
Summary: In which Strike faces the most challenging undercover role of his recent detective career - but the risk is more to his pride than to his safety.
Comments: 43
Kudos: 40





	1. Back to school

Strike is woken by the raucous sounds of three teenage boys getting ready for school and their mother scolding them for making such a mess of the kitchen.

Today is the day he is starting his latest case: going undercover at the school near his nephews’ school (the primary on the same road as the secondary school they attend).

Lucy is part of his cover story - being that she is on the PTA (of course she is) and suggested her brother for the role in the first place. She gets the Head Teacher Miss Callaghan to agree to let him take the role of (he groans, covers his head with a massive hand, and sighs deeply) … lollipop man.

Miss Callaghan had agreed in an instant. They’d had trouble filling the vacancy - most applicants either can’t do it well enough or can’t hack the disrespect/abuse they get (or, to be honest, can’t survive on the salary - school funding has been consistently slashed and this is an area that has suffered).

Strike gets up and hops to the shower. He’s still getting used to having a closely shaved head and jaw again, but the wrinkles and bags under the eyes are much more visible than they used to be. His cover story is that he is just out of the army, doing some part-time work for the CV and to re-adjust to life as a civilian, staying with his sister and her family for a while. Sgt. Cameron Smith at your service, he mutters to himself, committing the alias to memory.

 _Fuck’s sake. How on earth did you talk me into this, Robin?_ he thinks. And realises she could probably talk him into pretty much anything at this point, as long as she keeps putting kisses on her texts to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to the Denmark Street Discord gang who led to this scenario due to a bit of Transatlantic translation hilarity. 
> 
> American friends, a lollipop man (or lady) is our informal term for a crossing guard.  
> PTA = Parent-Teacher Association


	2. My boy lollipop

He really hates the early starts. Bromley is too quiet at night and too noisy in the morning.

Added to which, he’s recently quit smoking (and his pride isn’t ready for vaping) so he’s extra cranky. Nicotine patches are the equivalent of instant coffee vs freshly ground to him, and he’s in desperate need of something to do with his hands instead. (Pat, who had been through the withdrawal before, helpfully suggested a fidget spinner, but Strike’s look told her his opinion of that idea.)

To top it all, he’s had to stay at Lucy’s house in Bromley, to avoid having to catch an extremely early train and two buses each morning at the crack of dawn.

He can’t bear Lucy fussing around him like he’s one of her sons, when he is the older sibling. It was bad enough when she was setting him up with single women every fortnight, but this might just drive him over the edge. He knows she always wants to return the favour of him looking out for her when she was little and their mother was far from reliable, but her idea of care is always going to be smothering to him, he thinks. He escapes to the office to check in with the agency whenever he can, to minimise her opportunities for needling (and to see Robin, one thing which he looks forward to each day).

All in all it must be his most mortifying case ever.

His nephews are embarrassed to be seen with him, even though his cover story is, true to life, that he is their ex-squaddie uncle staying with them for a spell. Jack mutters a quick “Bye Uncle C” before getting out of the car on the first day but refuses to make eye contact, having reached mid-adolescence where everything is ‘lame’ and sigh-worthy, even his favourite relative.

Robin pops over one morning to take a photo for Wardle (she pretending to be Lucy’s close friend just returned from Australia in case she is needed as backup) after which Wardle sends him the link to the YMCA music video on WhatsApp, suggesting his role was within the ensemble of professions depicted by the vocalists, followed by a string of crying laughing emojis.

And, indignity of indignities, Shanker calls him up one day on his way home just to sing ‘My boy lollipop’ in his ear in a surprisingly accomplished comedy falsetto. Strike hangs up before he gets beyond ‘you make my heart go giddy-up’. 

On his first afternoon after his morning school run shift, back in the office he whines to Robin that he has to wear this hi viz coat which doesn’t suit a man of his stature and he looks like a ‘neon twat’ (in the words of two 14-year-olds who passed him, late for lessons) and wishes he wasn’t so conspicuous. Robin just laughs at him. “Kids are really mean” he pouts. “You’ll be OK. You’re a big boy now, you can take them.” She throws him an endearing dimpled smile and pats him consolingly on the arm before passing him the biscuit tin, filled with fresh Ginger Nuts. He hides his begrudgingly fond grin in his large mug of tea as she turns away to look at the agency calendar. (Barclay catches this and gives him a silent knowing look before heading over to deposit his expenses in Pat’s in tray.)

But if it gets them evidence (and secures the full fee for the agency), it will be worth it. Especially if he never has to wear a fluorescent yellow outfit ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Shanker is absolutely nailing is My Boy Lollipop by Millie Small  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=91OU4RhkrVM


	3. It’s not what you know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How the lollipop case came about...

When he first meets their famous client in a restaurant, his brother Al Rokeby is his alibi - nobody would be surprised to see Al meeting an up-and-coming film star OR his half-brother. And in fact it was Al who recommended him and the agency.

Strike hadn’t heard of him but Robin nods when he says the name. He was in a big sci fi franchise from a few years back, grew up in South London, seems nice by all accounts. Bought his mum a house with his royalties. Al doesn’t know of anything to be concerned about.

Anyway, the film star’s secretly been dating a pretty female primary school teacher, Year 1 at a suburban school in Bromley. Some of the grubbier end of the press have their suspicions, follow them on nights out and he’s concerned for her privacy and safety. He might have to pay the price of fame but he doesn’t want his … he hesitates over the words but he clearly cares - he doesn’t want her to suffer on his account, not with everything going so well, he says bashfully. Can the agency find out who is tailing her and make sure she isn’t bothered at work, at least?

Seeing her photo, as seen from a long lens photo through a hedge and published on the Mail Online, Strike can see the appeal - she is beautiful, in a down-to-earth, girl-next-door way. And anyone who puts up with kids day in day out must be an angel indeed.

He probably appreciates her ‘normality’, living in the celebrity sphere, Strike can appreciate that too, feeling ill at ease in the swish dining room Al booked for them. He’s always been more at home in humble pubs with warm hearths.

Turns out the school is near where Lucy lives - when he goes to the loo he texts her, does she know …? Yes, she is actually very active in the PTA there, she can introduce him to people there if he needs something. 

Strike isn’t sure. He doesn’t want his sister dragged into this.

He tells the actor he’ll consider it, discuss with his business partner and get back to him. He’s confident he doesn’t need to show him their fees.

Strike talks it over with Robin. He’s not convinced it’s worth their time, and he can’t think how he could really achieve results. How could either of them be inconspicuous enough to hang around outside a primary school all day and not arouse suspicions? 

And what about the agency? Can Robin take the slack if he’s doing odd hours? It could cut their capacity quite a bit, and they’ve already got a pretty full caseload.

He’ll miss being in the office as much (around her, he doesn’t say aloud) but it could be a good earner.

She agrees. ‘But what do you want to do? Wouldn’t you like to help a young couple in love - keep them together for a change?’

He knows then it’s a done deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, isn't Corm a sweetie? (More on that later)  
> Can you guess the actor I'm imagining? I have someone specific in mind, not sure why.


	4. Sgt Teddy Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How it started/how it's going - aka Strike's progress under cover.

He is, of course, a very grumpy lollipop man. 

He finds himself muttering “you little shits” under his breath as kids laugh at a man being a lollipop lady and run across the road before he can walk out on the crossing.

He gets tutted at by a mum for calling a kid a wanker out loud (“but he WAS a wanker, Luce - you should have heard what he was saying about the girls walking past”)

“Walk faster you little arseholes, I know you’ve got two legs and even I could stop less traffic” he growls at teenage boys strolling languidly across and doubling back, trying to wind him up (and succeeding).

And once he slightly swings the lollipop at a kid, but the kid finds it hilarious, thinks he’s playing, even when Strike says “I was trying to scare you into keeping on the pavement, you stupid b- boy”. (Not swearing is one of the hardest parts for Strike)

The teachers begin to call him Groundskeeper Willie. 

He 'confiscates' a cigarette off a teenager who he tells off for smoking by the entrance for the Reception children, and the lad thinks he’s going to thump him so he shakily surrenders his pack before running off, too quickly for Strike to even say thank you (sarcastically).

But as he slowly relaxes into the role he manages to charm the locals eventually, and with (most of) the parents of the little ones he is a perfect gent. Things are starting to look up.

To begin with, with his Hagrid-like frame and resting scowl, even without his beard, he scares the smallest children. He nearly has to grab a little girl who was going to run across - her eyes go so wide when she sees his face looming that he thinks she might pop - but he softens his expression and holds up the traffic to let her pass, and her bottom lip stops wobbling and she skips across happily. 

A few weeks in, he’s started to recognise the children and their families, and makes some headway with his research online and through various contacts about who might be targeting the Year 1 teacher who’s dating their client. He catches sight of a possible paparazzo and memorises their number plate.

He actually isn’t too bad at the cover job, all things considered. He knows the Highway Code well enough to keep everyone safe and he’s imposing enough to stop traffic that doesn’t respect it.

He even causes a bit of a flutter among the mums at the school gate, and has a bit of a flirty rapport with the receptionist Ms Jones - well, banter would only be natural, he tells himself, in his character’s situation. She calls him Sgt Teddy Bear, which he hopes Wardle never, ever discovers. 

Lucy begins to get a few enquiries about her brother from recently divorced mums in the PTA, and one hopeful single dad, should he be interested... But he isn’t looking for 'fun' at the moment.

One day some ducklings cross the road and he stands guard for them. Their parent waddles up behind, quacking authoritatively, and Strike nods at them courteously as if to say ‘you’re welcome.’ He hopes nobody sees this, but watching from her office, Miss Callaghan is suddenly chuckling to herself on her coffee break.

A small boy falls over and he kneels down to help him - “Sammy mate, go and get Ms Jones and some wet paper towels for ‘im” he instructs a classmate, who obeys without hesitation.

He gets into a stand-off with a rude driver (male, of course, not the first) who beeps his horn and gesticulates at Strike to move, swearing at him for daring to hold him up in his flashy sports car on his way to an important meeting. Strike stares him down with his trademark scowl, folds his arms across his chest in the middle of the road until the driver holds up his hands in apology. He gives him a smug smile and waves the waiting mum and pushchair over with a flourish. A bunch of children and parents applaud briefly and he does a bow to his adoring audience.

He nearly tells some of the younger children that actually he’s named after a Cornish giant but doesn’t… he must keep up his fully London persona. More like Green Giant in this jacket, he thinks to himself. He tucks that joke away in his mind for later to share with Robin. He doesn’t mind _her_ chuckling at his expense. She’s allowed. 

He suddenly realises he is almost enjoying this. The protective mode. Maybe with a better prosthetic, if he and Robin moved to the suburbs one day, he could cut back one day a week and volunteer… He shakes himself. Stupid sentimental bugger. Never gonna happen.


	5. Stick is stuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy speaks her mind

One day after the morning shift, Strike finds he can’t get home to the office because the trains are delayed going into London Bridge and he can’t guarantee he’ll be back in Bromley in time. After an hour in a greasy spoon cafe devouring a full English breakfast with one hand and typing up his notes on the case with the other, he notices his phone battery needs charging and reluctantly slopes back to Lucy’s house. He finds his half-sister folding laundry.

“Stick, what a nice surprise. Fancy a cuppa?”

“Please.” He sinks gratefully into the reclining armchair in her open-plan kitchen-dining-living room, plugs in his mobile and detaches his prosthetic with a sigh.

Lucy fills the kettle as he rubs his stump and flicks through the news headlines and checks his messages. Nothing urgent. Good. His heart lifts slightly at the sight of an unread email from Robin to the agency staff, which he knows will update them on current cases and relevant info, as she’s started doing each week. Her emails are efficient, detailed without being overly wordy, and she manages, apparently effortlessly (though he realises it probably isn’t) the business-like yet friendly tone that’s always eluded him. She’s started ending each email with an animal gif - he wonders what sorry critter she’s chosen this week.

Strike looks up as Lucy brings his tea over and sets it on the side table next to the recliner.

“I’m so glad you’re taking this case, Stick.” she says, as she returns to folding clean rugby shirts. “Miss Callaghan has been singing your praises.”

“Well, it’s not all altruistic you know. The client’s paying for my time, and the agency’s not in the position to be too picky.”

“But you’re enjoying it, aren’t you?” She watches him with a beady eye.

Strike sipped his tea and shrugged. “S’alright. I’ve done worse surveillance. Feels a bit more useful than sitting in a cafe drinking endless herbal tea.”

“You’re a good man. Not my words, just the opinion of the PTA divorcee subcommittee -”

“Lucy, we’ve been through this. As regards my love life, with all due respect, whenever you try to get involved I feel the urge rising to tell you to back the fuck off.”

“Yes, I’d noticed”, Lucy responds, tightly. 

“I do appreciate this is motivated by concern, or you meaning well. I do in fact,.. y’know, love you…” he says gruffly, with some effort.

“Good to know.” She softens, surprised, pausing the folding and leaning over to pat him on the arm.

“...and yes, I’m aware I need to actually tell people how I feel about them more often. I’m trying. With you and Ted, and Nick and Ilsa...”

“And Robin?” she asks quickly.

“And Robin. Oh bugger.” He realises his mistake.

“Stick, it’s not a secret.” she laughed, folding tea towels now. “Or at least it doesn’t have to be. I know you like to think you’re like a vault. But you clearly care about her a lot. It’s written all over your face - well, all over you really. Like that attractive hi viz uniform - ” (Strike flings a clean sock at her in mock annoyance).

“I just don’t think the normal life path is for me, Luce. And that’s OK.” he says, trying to subtly steer her away from his partner in particular.

“I know Stick. And I do think it’s OK - if that’s what you really want. But it doesn’t mean you can’t want some improvements to the status quo and go after something - someone you want. It’s allowed.”

She takes a deep breath and continues more gently, looking at him cautiously.

“They aren’t all like mum you know. Not all women you care about are going to leave you. Honestly, I think Robin would have done by now if she wanted to.”

Strike smiles reluctantly. “Yeah. I know I’m a grumpy bugger.”

“You are. Now go and be the Beast to her Beauty and ask her to dance, before you drive us all crackers.”

Strike rolls his eyes at the reference to Lucy’s childhood Disney obsession.

“I’d better get ready to get back to school.”

“There’s a Ginsters in the fridge with your name on it if you’ve got time”

“I’ve always got time for a pasty. Cheers Luce.” He kisses her quickly on the cheek, grabs the pasty, unwraps it enthusiastically and pops it in the microwave. Opening Robin’s email as he waits, he notices the gif at the end of a small owl visibly enjoying being stroked on the head. Just above the gif Robin has written ‘Hoping your weekend is as relaxing as this looks’. Although not a natural user of gifs, when they’re as cute and lovingly selected as this one, he has to admit he can’t find a reason to dislike them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy the gif in question (h/t Greeny on the Denmark Street Discord)  
> https://giphy.com/gifs/j1zW1Ng86MV78tRLOo/html5


	6. Love's labours won

For once, it’s an easy case - having identified the suspect’s car and checked their number plate, with a bit of further research (but not an unreasonable amount - they had been sloppy, really) Strike manages to establish the name of the paparazzo tailing his client’s new teacher girlfriend. A quick call with his old contact Mitch Patterson later, reminding him of a few aspects of privacy and safeguarding legislation, seem to get the message across and his mark is no longer sighted near the premises. Strike leaves at the end of that week feeling relieved to hang up his lollipop, and slightly overwhelmed by the gratefulness of Miss Callaghan and her school. He wonders if he might miss the kids, but the thought of returning to Denmark Street is a happy prospect.

He meets the client and his half-brother again, to hand over the information and wrap up the case. Al watches him looking ever so slightly impressed, making Cormoran inwardly preen.

The photographer has been identified, the school has warned him to stay away, and press attention on the young couple seems to have died down in favour of others. Cormoran reassures him and, feeling for him navigating the perils of fame in a way he recognises from the Lula Landry days, even throws in a few tips about avoiding detection when with a celebrity.

When he finally arrives back at the office, he sinks onto the farting sofa with a satisfied sigh, knowing he never has to be a lollipop man again. He’s glad to be back. Pat has gone for the day but he can hear his partner moving about in their inner office.

Robin pops her head out and greeted him. ‘Cuppa?’ she suggested. He grins at her, nodding, and she moved to the kitchenette to fill the kettle, before turning round and leaning against the draining board, folding her arms and smiling back at him.

‘So I’m back to making a nuisance of myself around here. I know you’ll have missed it.’ His eyes twinkle at her fondly.

Robin rolls her eyes. ‘The biscuit tin hasn’t. You know we got through half as many while you were on that job.’ 

‘Well I’ve missed them too…and, y’know, I’m quite glad to be out of Lucy’s… if I’d have been awoken by arguments over Playstations one more time…’ Strike rubs his face and groans.

‘How did it go with Film Star?’

‘Extremely well, and his girlfriend’s relieved she can come to work un-harassed again. He was very grateful for our help, and I think we will be very grateful for the cheque.’

‘It’s so sweet of him to make sure she’s looked after’, Robin muses, looking away from Strike, staring thoughtfully into space while sipping her tea. She thinks about how Matthew never really seemed to be worried about her safety when she started the job, not until he realised how it might look to others and that he could add it to his grudges against her employer. He had only thought of her late nights as an inconvenience to his plans. Strike, watching her while reaching for the biscuits, is thinking along similar lines about her ex-husband, but with significantly more violent adjectives.

‘I can understand the protective instinct’, says Strike, simply. He keeps looking at her after he finishes speaking, his eyes sweeping involuntarily over her arm that had been scarred, hoping she understood without him needing to say more.

The kettle boils and clicks off. Robin lays a hand on his shoulder for a second before she moves over to the kettle.

He reaches to put his hand over hers but she has moved on, unaware. His eyes follow her back as she makes their tea and strides over to hand him his steaming mug.

‘I know.’ she says quietly. ‘I’m glad you took the case. I could tell you hated it at first.’

‘Well I’m still not fond of early mornings’ (Robin snorts) ‘but if I’m honest the role grew on me’, he admits. 

Robin smiles. ‘You’re just a big teddy bear at heart, aren’t you?’ 

Strike growls comically and chuckles. ‘Funny you should say that… look what they gave me’.

He pulls a small furry figure out of his pocket and hands it to her. The tiny bear is wearing a fluorescent overcoat, a hat and holding a rather familiar sign.

‘I think you should keep it. As a thank you for putting up with this grumpy old sod’ says Strike, pointing at himself. He presses it into her hands, guides her grasp closed over it, and holds her hands in his momentarily, his thumbs stroking hers. His eyes meet hers, soft and solemn.

Robin blushes and mumbles ‘it’s nothing’, but they both know that really, coming from Strike, it is everything.

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to the Denmark Street Discord gang who led to this scenario due to a bit of Transatlantic translation hilarity. 
> 
> American friends, a lollipop man (or lady) is our informal term for a crossing guard.


End file.
